


Hostages

by LittleLinor



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vague Post Canon Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: It's when things are finally quiet that the real weight of things shows.
A look into the events of SG22





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is so self-indulgent it hurts. Also I'm posting it before canon retcons it.

Chrono Shindou isn't an inherently clingy person.  
You've always found the fact surprising, considering his history of serial losses, neglect and abandonment, and even somewhat worrying, in the face of his self-denial. Where others would have grown distrustful or controlling, you've never seen him express anything other than gratefulness or even guilt at those who did remain, be they family or friends. That he ever saw himself as a burden still stings, and raises a dull anger at the man who so easily left him behind, who involved you in his life rather than tell him the truth (and yet, if he hadn't where would you be now? You never would have found the happiness you live today, and _that_ makes you feel more guilty than you like to dwell on).  
But sometimes, it seeps through, sudden bursts of possessiveness, protectiveness that you drink every drop of, or quiet, solemn moments when he'll randomly tighten his hold, face dark and fingers tense.  
You don't call him out on it. You have your own share of demons, and you're nowhere near as good as him at actually talking about these things. So you do the best you can and accept them gladly, unconditionally, so that he can continue to express them without guilt.  
But when he reaches for you this time, there's an extra edge to the grip of his arms, and a tremor in his breath as he presses his face to your back, an embrace that came with no warning and no apparent reason, and yet seems so desperate. And it's too much for you. You slowly raise your hands, rest them on his where they lie on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your chest, and rub your thumb along the side of his palm.  
“Chrono?”  
You aren't good at saying things, but for him, you swear you're going to _try_ , no matter how bad you are.  
“… I'm all right,” he mumbles against your back. It's dangerously close to the base of your neck, and even now, you shiver.  
This isn't the time to give in to that kind of instinct, though. Not when he might need some genuine comfort.  
You squeeze his hands and try again.  
“You seem upset.”  
“… I guess.” He angles his face slightly, his cheek now resting against you rather than the front of his face. You decide it counts as progress. “I just remembered something. It'll pass.”  
You hesitate. It's not like you don't trust him not to know himself, not to be okay. He's resilient, and has come out unharmed from so many things, be they physical or emotional. But there's still a part of your chest that's squeezing as much as your hands, a distressed cry of _he shouldn't have to_.  
He shouldn't have to deal with it alone, no matter how capable of it he is.  
You swallow.  
“… will you tell me about it?”  
For a few moments, he stays silent, the faint rise of his chest the only movement against your back. And then, his shoulders pressing closer as his arms fall slightly, hugging closer to your chest:  
“When we were fighting Ryuzu Myoujin. In the Stride Gate.”  
Suddenly, you don't feel so ready to talk anymore. Not out of any unwillingness, although the thought terrifies you, but because your throat's dried and hardened, the very idea of pushing a word through painful.  
There's no way you can think about those events that doesn't make you feel guilty. The entire thing had been a desperate, adrenaline-filled rush for you, from he moment he'd dropped next to you and your tentative dreams of fighting side by side had been shattered. A lonely battle, once again, but fuelled, rooted by the fiercest, warmest feelings you had ever called yours, fondness and gratefulness and immutable, unconditional faith. You'd wanted to win for him so badly, even as you knew you couldn't, and even if you never saw him again, at the very least you could do something for him, _for_ him, finally, actually give him something other than pain and expectations, reunite him with his partner, give him all you could for the battle you knew he would refuse to run from.  
The cost didn't matter.  
But in doing so, you'd once more brought loss into his life, confronted him with the fear of being left behind, again. You hadn't realised, then, that your life could have any actual worth to him, that the thought of losing you could have upset him for any reason more personal than his kindness. You hadn't yet seen the fear and horror and determination as he cradled you, you hadn't experienced the fierceness that seeps into his eyes and his veins now when he holds you close, possessive and loving.  
You hadn't known that you would hurt him. And yet, even with that knowledge now, you can't imagine making any other choice.  
It makes your stomach twist.  
“I'm sorry,” you finally murmur, squeezing his hands.  
He shakes his head, cheek pressing against your back.  
“It's not that. Not your fault, I mean.” He sighs. For a moment, he's silent, but you feel his hands tighten, his face shift. Finally, he continues, more quietly. “I never told you, but… he tried to use you against me.”  
The words don't register. For a few moments, your brain is just blank, and then a buzz of growing static, because the concept is so _absurd_. How could you have been used against him? It wasn't like you could be used or manipulated again, in the state your dying body was in. And you'd been stripped of what little fighting ability you had. Your one trump card you'd already used.  
So _how_?  
Chrono sighs and presses himself closer to your back.  
“… what do you mean?” you finally prompt, light-headed.  
“… 'when the perfect world comes, you'll be able to live together in the same world',” he recites.  
You freeze.  
In the space where your words should be, he chuckles. Small and self-derisive.  
“It shouldn't have phased me,” he continues, a hint of humour in his voice mixing with something that sounds almost tearful. “It'd been his thing this all time, right? It was nothing _new_ ; I should have expected it. But...” his hands tighten, fingers digging into you, “I… I wasn't sure you'd make it. And he _knew_ that.” He takes in a breath, releases it shakily. “I was scared of losing you… I'd promised I'd bring you back with everyone… And there he is, boasting about taking you down, about _killing_ you—” He pauses, pushing anger out of his lungs. “And then— _then_ , after insulting you, he freaking—he starts saying. That you'd come back _because of me_ , that it'd be my imagination that'd revive you.”  
He stops, then, voice raw, and yours finally breathes out, hesitant.  
“Chrono...”  
“It was like being slapped. I was so _angry_. Dangling you like a carrot in front of my face when he's the one who took you away from me—but the worst is, for a second, it almost worked.” You blink, tense, but his hands shift again, catching one of your thumbs under his. “Not… not really, I wouldn't have given up, but. For a moment, I did want it. I was _scared_. I didn't want a future… without you in it.”  
Your breath catches. Your head, always clear even in the middle of fighting, feels faint, dizzy, a strange distance spreading between your brain and your spine, disconnected. You know, you've known his feelings for a while, and yet this still feels, sounds so far removed from reality.  
You hadn't wanted a future without him either, but that future didn't have to be yours. When he'd lowered you back on the ground, you'd been ready to die.  
The moment you reached for Chrono Dran's trigger device, the moment you'd lowered _him_ to the ground a few moments before, you'd been ready to die. You hadn't even expected to say goodbye.  
(And you'd been _happy_ , even as you fell, happy to keep your promise and do something for him, finally, happy because a future led by him could do nothing but shine, even if you weren't there to witness it. And then, against all odds, he was there, reaching through the fog of your failing body with desperate calls of your name, and when you'd dragged your awareness back to your body and its sensations and pain, you'd been in his arms. _In his arms_ , where you'd never even _dreamed_ of being, and even through the pain and shaking, you'd never felt this safe in your life.   
You can still feel it now, the warmth of his arms, carefully wrapped around your shoulders, your neck, your waist. Shielding you from the world, keeping you close. It's a sensation you're used to now, but back then it had been new and incomprehensible and you could have cried from how good it felt if you hadn't been so busy feeling dizzy with the joy of seeing him again, of making sure with your own eyes that he was all right, of getting to tell him yourself that you'd kept your promise to him, no lies, no failures, _finally_.  
You'd wanted so badly for him to be proud of you. And instead he gave you so much more, when you'd already been content.  
No one had ever come back for you before. No one had wanted to. How could you have asked for anything else?  
You wish you knew how to tell him that without hurting him more.)  
He presses lips to your back, and you squeeze his hands again, senses pulled back to reality.  
You try to find the words to tell him he doesn't have anything to blame himself for.  
“I didn't, though,” he says, faster than you. “I couldn't, for everyone's sake, but also… I couldn't. You'd sacrificed yourself for this, I couldn't… put my fear before your will. That would have been spitting on you as much as he did.” A chuckle. “You know, I can't believe that I didn't understand straight away, when I saw you were missing. I should have known you'd do anything to keep your promise. I just thought… you were trying to fix things yourself.”  
“Chrono...”  
“That's something else he said, y'know.” His voice is quiet, and your heart clenches. “That I didn't really know you.” He chuckles. “Like _he_ did any better, but I guess he was right, in a way.”  
You want to interrupt, to tell him he's wrong, that of all the people who've gotten to know you since your teenage years he's the one who saw right through you, who read your intentions and so many of your feelings and waited for you to be able to say them yourself, but he smiles against you and tightens his hands again, a silent order to let him finish what he was saying, and you do.  
“But you know, that's part of why I was so angry.”  
He pauses, then, and you wait in silence for him to continue, but instead he releases your hands and shifts to face you, taking your hands again.  
You fight the urge to look away. Meeting his eyes is always powerful, and you've never quite been sure whether it's the colour or the emotions in them that always seem to make them burn. But the same light you use as a beacon blinds you sometimes, even in the most casual of settings.  
He gives you a small smile, and you find yourself smiling back. Tentative but earnest.  
“—cause I put two and two together, y'know,” he finally continues, as if on impulse. “If I didn't really know you, then how the hell was I supposed to bring you back? What would you have been, just the ghost of what little I knew, only there to smile at me? Some _perfect_ ,” he says, all but spitting out the word, “ideal with your face on it?”  
You look away for a second, try to hide the part of you that chimes in with _that much would have been for the best_. You can do better than this.   
So you look back up, just in time to see him moving in, to let your lips part as his press into them, as his hand lets go of yours to slide into your hair. Passionate and impulsive but still careful, leaving you time to react or pull back before he grips.  
You don't.  
Your lips are tingling when he moves back, and your breath short, but even now, the safety of being pulled close makes your heart beat slow and strong.  
He's the one who looks away this time, pressing his forehead to your shoulder.  
“… I'm still mad,” he mumbles.  
To your own surprise, you laugh. It's short and quiet, almost silent, but you know he can feel it, from the way he smiles and angles his face a little.  
“No, really,” he adds, and to your relief, there's warmth in his voice again. “The idea that I'd rather have a pretty fake than the real human I was finally getting to know…” He straightens again. “It's you I want, Kouji. With your flaws and all the passion you try to hide and how secretive you are… It's the real you I wanted to get to know, even then. I wanted to discover who was hiding under the cold face you were putting on… To learn about your past… to be there when you need me. Especially… especially after holding you like that, I'd always known you were hiding things that hurt you but then I _knew_. And I wanted to find out.”  
You sigh, almost in disbelief.  
“Where did you learn to read me like this?”  
He chuckles.  
“In a way, you're the one who taught me.”  
“… how so?”  
He grins.  
“A fight reveals everything about a person, remember? Well, it was a good start, anyway. And it was truer than you thought. Even the way you never held back had a meaning.”  
You look away.  
“… but that's exactly why,” he says, quietly. “It's the real person behind those fights I wanted to know. Your real strength, and the scars to go with it. What's the _point_ otherwise?”  
“… I'll admit, the idea that even he thought your ideal world would include me is making me happier than it should.”  
He huffs.  
“Don't start.”  
“I'm being honest. But… thank you.”  
“Mmm,” he hums, leaning against your shoulder again as if deflated.  
You smile and lean your head against his. If you can comfort him too, _actively_ so, then you will with everything you have.  
“I do think it is a little unfair that I got to know your real personality and potential far earlier than you did… but I am trying, Chrono. I do want you… to know everything about me.” You hesitate. “I...”  
“You've been trying to tell me your own version of things, right?”  
You nod.  
“As usual, putting it into words is harder than it sounds.”  
He chuckles.  
“I'll wait, then. You'll tell me eventually.”  
You smile.  
“I promise.”


End file.
